


Avaritia

by bbl8te



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, But they're both down to clown, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Discussion of Pregnancy, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, How Do I Tag, Loss of Virginity, Mildly Dubious Consent, No Pregnancy, POV Kylo Ren, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rey is super horny and Kylo is kinda scared, Sex Pollen, Stranded Together, This was supposed to be straight porn but it developed its own plot help me, Under the Influence of Horny Alien Substances, Virgin Ben Solo, Virgin Rey (Star Wars), author said her allergies can get fucked, but reylo can FUCK, rey is on protection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:29:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23778421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbl8te/pseuds/bbl8te
Summary: “Hold me.”“You don’t want this,” he urges, and if he sounds pleading it’s the flower’s fault, not his. “You’ll hate me.”“I won’t. I can’t hate you. Not even if I wanted to.”———Rey calls for Kylo when she’s stranded on a tropical planet. An encounter with an aphrodisiac flower leaves her needing him in more ways than one.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 30
Kudos: 157
Collections: Sex Pollen to the Rescue





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Here's a short, silly fic inspired by the Reylo Sex Pollen challenge on twitter. The timeline here is after Kylo builds his new mask in TROS, but before Rey heads to Pasaana. 
> 
> Really, this is mindless smut so it's all kind of relative...
> 
> Also, here's a [lil playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1qhk1xxIy3yUaiGM7BTU5t?si=kvtx-sb3TteqIMtiPlFDPQ) of some songs I had on repeat while writing. The real fun starts in chapter 2, which will be up later this week. 
> 
> Enjoy!

He knows she’s here. 

His blood is thrumming with awareness. It runs hotter and faster, boiling underneath his skin. He ducks under overgrown ferns, pushes wide leaves aside. He can’t exactly pinpoint where she is, but he knows that she’s close.

The canopy above is so tightly formed that only shallow rays of sunlight break down to the ground. It should provide relief from the heat. Instead, he feels claustrophobic and trapped. The air is humid and heavy, and he feels as though he’s working twice as hard to breathe under his mask. He wonders if removing it would help or hinder in keeping the heat at bay. 

How was the scavenger faring in this dramatic change of climate? Probably better than him.

 _Rey_ , he calls.

There’s no response.

Their bond is overwhelming in its intensity and he knows that she feels it too. Even when she hates him and insults him—creature, snake, _monster—_ she is drawn to him like a moth to flame. She couldn’t deny him anymore than he could deny her.

After all, it was her fault that he now found himself here, traipsing through a tropical rain forest like some pathetic, ill-equipped expeditionist.

Cursing, he ignites his saber. It hums to life, volatile and out of place in this peaceful oasis. The birds in the canopy up above scatter when they hear it, shaking branches and losing feathers in their hurried flight.

He slashes his saber through the overgrown brush, making a path for himself. He doesn’t know where the forest ends or begins, has only been blindly following the unignorable pull that tethers them across galaxies. 

Rey had told him that she was lost, separated from her friends in a supply negotiation gone sour. Her ship was destroyed and she had no survival gear. He imagines her desperation, her _fear_ , and it turns his stomach. Enemy she may be, but he doesn’t want that for her. All he knows is that she needs him, that she _called_ for him with a desperation he hadn’t known possible, and he’d boarded the next available vessel within minutes.

Under what circumstances does someone call upon a monster to save them? 

_Rey_ , he tries again, forcing calm into his voice as he hacks savagely at another overgrown fern. _I’m on planet. I’m nearby. Tell me where you are._

Silence.

Then, blessedly, her voice.

_Ben?_

She knows better than to call him that. He dismisses his irritation in favor of locating her.

_Where are you?_

_I don’t know. I think I’m close to you. Something’s wrong with the air._

_It’s the humidity,_ he tells her. _You haven’t experienced it before._

_No. It’s something else._

He mentally runs through every known planet in the galaxy with air noxious to humans. This one isn’t one of them. She was likely overreacting and panicked for who knows how long before she’d deigned to call upon him. Yet, some small, rational voice reminds him that Rey isn’t someone to overreact _or_ panic.

 _Do you have your mask?_ she asks, and her concern for him is so palpable that it would undo him under any other circumstance.

 _Yes,_ he replies.

_Good._

He continues hacking and swinging, then he hears something stumbling in the brush towards his left. He recognizes the footfall as more human than animal. The Force drags him towards the source and he deactivates his saber, knowing already that he has found her.

The scavenger comes stumbling out of the brush looking as exhausted as he has ever seen. Her face is flushed pink and her hair is partially undone. She has new cuts and bruises and is filthy, but otherwise seems no worse for the wear.

“You came,” Rey says, sounding mildly surprised.

Relief courses through him, and he can’t tell if those are his own emotions or hers.

“New look?” she asks, gesturing to his mask. 

“...Something like that.”

Too often their encounters start with sabers drawn and end with one of them on their back. Now, on what can only be deemed neutral territory, Rey doesn’t seem to know what to do. He studies the way her pride begins to rear its ugly head, the way she draws herself to her full height and fights off emotion.

She gives up quickly.

“I’ve never been so glad to see you,” she confesses, her expression soft and guileless and it shouldn’t affect him so but it _does._ In this rainforest there is no First Order or Resistance, no good or bad. It’s just them. 

“Where are your friends?” he can’t help but ask.

“On a nearby planet. I was trying to lose the locals in the forest, which I suppose _worked_ but…” she trails off, brushing a heavy coating of dirt and yellow pollen off of her white clothes. She looks like a cat who’s been caught rolling around in a flowerbed.

His hand reaches for his saber. “Where?”

Rey shakes her head. “I lost them a few miles back. They… looked scared.” Panic etches her face as she continues brushing the pollen from her clothes. “This isn’t poisonous, is it?”

His chest tightens. 

“No, I don’t think so. Come,” he orders, and takes pleasure when she silently obeys. How easy everything would be if she agreed to his _other_ demands just as simply.

Rey follows him, seeming to not know the appropriate amount of space to maintain, now that they’re not across opposite ends of a battlefield. She is oddly subdued, but he assumes she is merely too exhausted to engage in any of their typical verbal sparring. 

“I’ve never seen a planet so green,” Rey muses, and he thinks it’s more to herself than to him. “Or so wet… I didn’t know that the air could carry so much moisture.” He hears her hand trail along the wet greens as they pass, fingers playing with the droplets of water.

He says nothing, and she continues prattling about the plants and the climate. When they return to the path he’s cut through with his saber, she dawdles to trail her fingers along the scorched trees.

“The air on Jakku was so _dry_. Here, you can practically taste the water.”

“Move quickly,” he barks at her. The skin beneath his mask is dripping with sweat and he longs for the moment that they board the cool, crisp hangar of his ship.

Her foot catches on a hidden root and she stumbles a little. Kylo pauses as she collides into his back. When did she get so close?

She stays like that for a minute too long, hands clutching his cloak, and it’s then that he finally acknowledges something is horribly wrong.

“You’re ill.”

“No, I just need a minute.” He turns to look at her and she is panting and sweating. She wipes her face on her shirt sleeve. Her cheek comes away smeared with bright pollen. 

“We need to keep moving.”

Rey shakes her head. “I can’t. I need to rest.”

He curses and before she can protest he lifts her into his arms. At first, her body is stiff and anxious as he trudges along. As the minutes tick away, however, she all but melts into him. 

A long silence stretches before Rey speaks again. “I don’t want to sound dramatic, but I think I’m dying.”

“Why do you say that?” he replies coolly. Unbidden panic works its way through him and he begins walking faster through the wild foliage.

“My body feels weak and… Kriff, I’ve never _been_ so hot.” She starts tearing at the collar of her tunic and Kylo has no choice but to use the Force to still her arms. She groans a complaint.

“The plant you encountered is likely a sedative,” he says. “And you’re hot because this _planet_ is hot. You’ll be fine once we get you on my ship.”

Her breathing is rapid and heavy, and he doesn’t know if she’s even listening. She presses her cheek against his shoulder, then proceeds to rub gently against the fabric of his tunic. He assumes she’s just scratching her face.

Then she _moans._ It’s a soft, quiet sound, but it undoes all the same. His grip around her tightens and he is practically running.

Rey is unphased by the change in pace. “You’re softer than you look,” she murmurs. Her breath ghosts over the sliver of exposed skin between his mask and the collar of his shirt. She is writhing in an unhappy bid to free her wrists.

“Hold still,” he grits out. He tries to find the path back to his ship, but the greenery is all starting to look the same. He comes to a clearing he doesn’t recognize and curses in frustration.

She ignores his panic and continues her own struggle, physically and in the Force. She finally breaks her wrists free of his powers and loops her arms around his neck. Her head fits neatly against his chest again and she sighs contentedly.

Given her current state, he allows it. If the pollen made her lax and agreeable, far be it from him to intervene. So long as she keeps still, he can-

“Aren’t you hot under there?” Rey croons, and it’s the _way_ that she says, with her voice pitched low and breathy that lets him know he’s in trouble.

“What color were those plants you ran through?”

Her nose finds the exposed skin between his collar and his mask. She inhales deeply.

“Focus. What color were they? What size?”

"Does it matter?" One of her fingers dips into his collar.

He drops her abruptly. She yelps, crashing unceremoniously onto the ground.

“Walk,” he commands.

Rey gives him a nasty look, but rises to her feet. Rather than walk away, she turns around and takes a step towards him. 

He takes one back.

Another step forward, another step back.

“Kylo Ren, are you _scared_ of me?” 

“You're not in your right mind. Something is making you hallucinate. It’s affecting your behavior. Think rationally about where you are-”

Rey practically lunges for him and it takes using the Force to freeze her in place. But she is strong, she is his _equal_ , and he knows he can’t keep her at bay for long. He has half a mind to run back towards his ship and leave her there. 

Her pretty teeth sink into the fullness of her lower lip as they begin their invisible tug-of-war. She cants towards him so recklessly that if he lets go she will undoubtedly smash face-first at his feet.

“You’re unwell,” he repeats, his chest rising and falling in agitated exertion.

“Just let me touch you!” she snaps.

The admission shouldn’t catch him off surprise, but it does. His powers falter briefly and Rey seizes the opportunity to grab the belt at his waist. Before he can stop her, she opens it and lets it fall at their feet. 

“You wear a lot of layers,” she remarks, going for the collar of his tunic. His gloved hands seize her wrists, caught in the air between them.

“What color was the plant,” he repeats.

Rey’s unfocused gaze travels the length of his mask, no doubt looking for a way to unlatch it. 

“ _Rey!”_

Her name brings a shadow of clarity back to her features. She seeks out his gaze, behind the shield of his mask. “Purple? Dark purple.”

“What _else?”_

She licks her lips. “They were tall. As tall as me. When I collided into one, it released this… large cloud of pollen.”

Kylo curses so furiously that even in her state, Rey startles. 

“What?! I’m... I’m not dying, am I?”

“Of mortification, only. Those flowers you played with were _aphrodisiacs._ Local tribes use them to…” he trails off, assuming Rey can supply the rest of herself.

He slowly releases Rey’s hands and watches her pupils dilate, feels her sharp spike in panic. “Kriff. Oh no. Ben, I walked into a whole _cloud_ of it. What’s going to happen? I’ve never-“

“Nothing,” he answers gruffly, cutting her off, not wanting to hear any more. “But you have to wash this pollen off. You can’t keep inhaling it like this.” He looks desperately around the clearing. “Was there a source of water nearby?”

When he turns around, Rey is tugging at her own clothes again.

“Focus!”

“I don’t know!” she snaps, waving around the belt that holds both her saber and her blaster. “Wait, yes. There was a lake and a waterfall, somewhere…”

“ _Where?!”_

Frustratedly, Rey’s hands dig into her scalp and Kylo watches in horror as more clouds of pollen are dislodged from her hair. “I think… I think I remember. The locals use markers. They paint little symbols on the trees that lead to water.”

He snatches her belt in one hand and seizes her upper arm in his other. Then, he all but _drags_ Rey back where they came from. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your love and patience for this little story. Please note the updated chapter account! This fic turned out a little longer than expected, but rest assured it'll have a happy ending. I'm still a clown at the end of the day.
> 
> Come find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/bbl8te) for fic updates and thirst tweets. <3

Rey is generally unhelpful with locating water, preferring to spend the rest of their journey removing her arm wraps and any excess fabric from her person. It’s only by threatening to abandon her that her shirt and pants remain on. After a trek that never seems to end, Kylo can finally hear the sounds of rushing water. He’s so relieved to finish this hellish scenario that he releases his bruising grip on Rey’s upper arm.

“You’re not coming with me?”

He turns to look at her and means to insult her neediness. Instead, he finds her fondling her own breasts. She does it absently, her gaze trained upwards to the sound of songbirds above them.

“Stop that.”

Rey drops her hands, still admiring the wildlife above. “I can’t help myself.” She sighs and leans back against the trunk of a large tree. “Why did you come for me?” she asks lazily. One of her hands creeps under the edge of her tunic, revealing a slip of her taut abdomen.

It dawns on him that she’s _teasing_ him. His mouth goes dry. If it weren’t for the voice modulator of his mask, he wouldn’t have the confidence to speak. 

“You asked me to.” 

“ _You_ didn’t have to come. You could’ve sent one of your friends.”

“If I’d sent anyone else, the opportunity to capture the prize of the Resistance would have been too much to ignore. They would have made you prisoner before you realized it.”

“I can handle myself.”

“Not in your state.”

“You’re not treating me very much like an enemy.”

“You’re not my enemy,” he confesses, before he can think better of it.

Rey’s brow quirks. “Is that so. What am I, then?” 

He fights back every desperate reminder of that day in the throne room, when he’d practically ripped his own heart out and offered it to her. He’d only known her for a handful of days, but she’d imprinted herself on him so thoroughly that he couldn’t imagine a world where she didn’t exist. 

Rey hums appreciatively and he curses himself, knowing she has felt the sentiment through their bond. 

“I knew how you felt when I left,” she says, in a voice gentler than he deserves. 

“I told you I wanted you by my side.”

“You did,” she acquiesces. “As your… what, exactly? Your partner? When you offered me your hand, I wanted to take it. You know it and I know it. What I _don’t_ know is what exactly you imagined our new, perfect arrangement to be.”

And with that, Rey unfastens her trousers and drops them at her feet. Kylo turns around quickly, and he’s reminded of her own reaction to seeing him disrobed, in what feels like a lifetime ago. He hadn’t thought much of his own undress, or felt more than mild amusement at Rey’s prudish reaction to it. This time, it’s entirely different. The energy between them feels charged and volatile. He’s stretched so thin that he might break.

To his frustration, Rey only sinks to the ground. “This _thing_ ,” she says, gesturing between them, “Is it all because of your master, bridging our minds? Or do you think there’s more to it?”

She’s voicing thoughts that he’s ruminated on every day since he’d last seen her. It had only grown worse since Exegol, and the startling revelation of Rey’s true parentage. They were thoughts that ate away at him in the middle of the night, keeping him from sleep and driving him mad.

“You’re hiding something,” Rey says quietly, and he doesn’t have to see her to know her arousal is spiking. He can _feel_ it. 

“Does it matter?” he says darkly.

“It does… and it doesn’t. I don’t know.” He hears her breath hitch and doesn’t want to look at what he knows is the sight of her pleasuring herself.

“You’re under the influence of an aphrodisiac. You need to get in the water.”

“I need _you.”_

He focuses on his breathing, calls upon every strength of his training to keep from falling apart. He turns to face her and, despite it all, finds himself entirely unprepared for the sheer eroticism of the site before him.

Rey is still wearing her underwear, but her thighs are spread unseemly as she touches herself through the fabric. Her face is flushed and sweaty, and loose tendrils of hair are plastered to her skin. She pauses to lift the edge of her tunic up and over her head, revealing breasts hidden by the flimsiest strip of fabric. She sits before him, primed and ready, just like the _prize_ he claimed that she was.

Her hands return to her core and suddenly every filthy video on the holonet could not compare to the image of her like this. He’s unable to ignore his erection, how damn near painful it is. He thinks he’ll spend the rest of his life haunted by this sight.

“This is the last time I’m going to tell you to move,” he threatens lowly.

Rey is unphased and continues her lazy ministrations.

”Make me," she counters.

Kylo’s patience fractures and he reaches out with the Force to drag her body towards him. When she stands before him, with lips parted and pupils blown wide, he sinks his hand into her hair and jerks her head back to look at him _._ It’s the most physical he’s ever been with her, without a saber in his hand.

Forced onto her tiptoes, he can see clearly the way Rey’s hazel eyes dart around his mask, seeking his gaze. 

"I’ll drown you in that river if that’s what it takes to bring you back to your senses. Is that what you want, for me to treat you like an animal?”

“You’re so far away,” she answers softly, and his grip in her hair tightens. Rey winces, before taking Kylo’s free hand in her own. 

He should stop her. He should knock her out and drag her to the water like he threatened. He should abandon her there, sweaty and wanton, to work out her frustrations in solitude. A million different scenarios play out in his head, but each of them are lost when Rey lifts his gloved hand to her face. 

The black leather is stained with bright patches of pollen. Rey presses her cheek into his palm, hazel eyes fluttering closed with pleasure. Then she _licks_ his hand, all the way from the edge of his wrist to the tip of his fingers. Her tongue comes away wet and shining, stained that brilliant sunshine yellow.

His mask hisses open.

Kylo shoves her away, but it does him no good. Rey’s pull on the Force is faster than his, and his mask is soaring over the canopy before he can stop it. Infuriated and aroused and _frightened_ , he buries his nose in his elbow as Rey begins stalking towards him.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” she says heavily. Her hands dig into the front is his tunic and he stumbles backwards, slamming against a tree. Rey loosens her last remaining bun and clouds of pollen burst from her hair like angel dust. 

He chokes out her name—a warning or a beckoning, he doesn’t know. Rey continues molding her body against his and he can no longer deny their perfect fit. Her softness slots against all of his hard edges, smoothing him out in a way he’s always needed _._

She gently brings his arm down from his face and marvels, open-mouthed, at the sight of his scar. She takes his face in her hands and presses a soft, wet kiss to it. His eyes squeeze shut, and he knows it’s too late but he will fight this thing until he can’t anymore. He owes her that much.

He can’t imagine how long they stand that way, Rey peppering kisses on his skin and trying in vain to stick her tongue in his mouth. He jerks his face away and Rey seeks the skin on his throat instead, sucking so violently that the sharp sting of pain shoots straight to his groin. 

“Tell me you don’t feel this too,” she pleads against his throat.

_You’re a part of me. You live in me. You’re every thought and every feeling and every decision I’ve ever made since losing you._

He’s falling apart, completely and wholly, and he doesn’t know where Rey’s thoughts end and his begin. They crash against each other in the Force like competing waves and… water, they were supposed to head to the water…

_You’re in my blood, you’re in my veins. You’re a sickness I wish I could purge but I don’t know who I’ll be when you’re gone._

It’s sheer madness and he can’t remember why he’s fighting so hard, or why water and cleaning matter when Rey feels so good, _so_ fucking good, grinding herself against his thigh like an animal lost in rut. He feels the wetness of her leaking through his pants, meeting his skin and he groans. Gone is the urge to leave, replaced by a desire to bury himself so deeply inside of her that she will forget what it’s like to have ever been without him. 

He opens his eyes. The greens of the forest are blurring together like an abstract painting. He squints at his surroundings, trying to bring semblance to them, then finds himself distracted by the music of the songbirds above them. They’re unlike anything he’s ever heard, singing something so beautiful and haunting that he can’t believe he hasn’t listened until now. 

He vaguely registers Rey tugging off his cloak and his tunic. He lifts his arms so she can remove his shirt, too. How hard had she been fighting against the flower’s effects? Years of training have apparently meant nothing for him if he’s succumbed so easily to an aphrodisiac’s poison. It would appear that she's somehow more disciplined than he is. He no longer questions why she continues to seize victory after victory, holding them over his head like an out of reach star.

Rey returns to suck greedily along his throat, tasting the sweat on his skin. Her hands roam his abdomen frantically, learning every dip and curve and hard expanse of muscle with desperation. He remembers her as what she was, a feral little scavenger girl, and the clumsy way she touches him makes that much more sense. He reaches her through their bond and finds her _starved,_ her entire body aching with the need to touch and taste and feel as much of him as he can.

Her passion doubles down on his own and he is dizzy with wanting her. He is so hard that he can scarcely do anything except thrust his cock against her lower abdomen, still trapped within the confines of his clothes. He vaguely registers Rey tugging his gloves off and bringing his hands up to her body.

“Hold me.”

“You don’t want this,” he urges, and if he sounds pleading it’s the flower’s fault, not his. “You’ll hate me.”

“I won’t. I can’t hate you. Not even if I wanted to.” Rey brings one of his hands down to her sex, guiding him underneath her underwear. His fingers part a soft patch of curls and are lost in slick warmth. She writhes against his hand, held firmly within her grip, begging him for response.

Words fail him, yet he grasps vainly at any vestige of control. After another long, agonizing moment of Rey grinding herself into his hand, she sinks her hands into his sweaty hair and forces him down for a kiss.

Thought fades away, replaced by sensation, and there is _so_ much of it. The taste of Rey’s tongue in his mouth, the smell of her sweat. Birdsong and wet noises and Rey’s little gasps have him wound tight, close to bursting. He finds control of his body once more and loses himself in the soft, wet place his fingers are now exploring. He buries his fingers inside of her, as much as her small body will take. She makes sounds he has only ever imagined, and it only takes a few more clumsy strokes before she climaxes.

Her knees buckle and he fastens his other arm around her waist, holding her upright as he watches the myriad of expressions play across her face. He’s never seen a woman orgasm, much less helped, and he loses himself in the moment. He continues stroking and stroking until tears spring to Rey’s eyes, overwhelmed and vulnerable and _still_ he drags the moment out of her. When he finally grants her mercy, Rey is limp in his arms. 

He lays her among grass and wet soil and vaguely wonders if he should drag his cloak over to make a bed for her. But he peers into Rey’s mind and she _loves_ this. She feels good and right, pressed against this verdant earth with beautiful Ben Solo hovering over her.

His old name is jarring. The word _be_ _autiful_ is jarring. Awareness knocks at the door of his mind, something about the importance of getting clean. But why would he do that? Why would he do anything except enjoy how sweaty, wet, and natural this is? Rey wraps her soft legs around his hips and he can’t for the life of him think why anything else matters. Her face has found a stream of sunlight and the light catches on the pollen still dusted on her cheeks and in her hair. He marvels at the iridescent shimmer they take. She looks unnatural, like an angel whose forsaken her wings for a roll in the dirt with her mortal lover. 

He is so grateful, so overwhelmed. His mouth seeks her breasts and he lavs at her nipples sloppily. She gasps and shudders beneath him. His hand returns to her sensitive cunt, engulfing it in hot pressure and he revels in the way she both loves and hates it.

“Get inside me,” she urges, “I’m empty, I need-“

“I _know_ ,” he grunts, loosening his trousers and freeing himself. He can’t remember being this hard. He nudges his cock against the space meant for him and only him, sinking home in one hard thrust. Rey keens and gasps, her eyes squeezing shut. Her tightness and wetness envelop him as though it’s been waiting there, all this time, and is at last welcoming him home. He breathes her name against her throat and sinks his teeth into her flesh.

She groans, writhing against him with her fingernails buried in the skin of his back. Her ankles lock behind his hips and she uses the leverage to grind herself against his pelvic bone, already worked up and ready for more. He should have asked questions. He should have been _gentle,_ and yet all he can think about is pounding her little cunt until it’s overflowing with his seed. It fills him with primal satisfaction, the way he can so easily lay claim to what’s always been just out of his reach. He drags himself out of her and slams back home and Rey whimpers like it hurts. 

“Please,” she begs.

“Don’t you ask me to stop because I _can’t_. Don’t you fucking dare-“

“Don’t stop. _Don’t_. Ben, please... ”

He grunts and sets to work on her, his fingers digging into her waist so hard that she has no choice except to lay there and take him. He drowns in Rey’s moans, the wet slap of their bodies and the birdsong in the canopy. He’s slipped into a dream or a nightmare or some mix of the two, and the only thing tethering him to this plane is this beautiful, willful, infuriating girl. Rey’s fingers slide between their joined bodies and now she is working herself anxiously, chasing a release he can feel kindling through her as though it were his own. She finds her climax with a muffled shriek into his shoulder.

They were made for this, he thinks. She was born to find him, and he to find her. They are the polar ends of a magnet, slamming together and finding a home. He drops to his forearms, caging her face, and fucks up into her inelegantly and ruthlessly. He's drunk on the reality of being buried inside her, making rough groans and telling her how well she takes him, how perfect she is. Pressure builds at the base of his spine and unfurls like a flower in bloom. 

Rey’s hands find his face, pushing his sweaty hair away so she can watch as he falls apart. 


End file.
